


Confessions of a troubled soul

by epistretes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cullen's crush, Drunkenness, F/M, Implied Cullen/Inquisitor feelings, No happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistretes/pseuds/epistretes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair gets drunk at Skyhold and Cullen learns the truth behind the death of the Hero of Ferelden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of a troubled soul

Alistair Theirin, Grey Warden, was sitting at the bar and draining his second stein of ale. He cut a silent, sad, solitary figure as he sat there and the revellers kept far away from him in case his mood affected their celebration.

They had returned victorious from Adamant fortress and the warriors wanted to celebrate their win and their dead. Alistair wondered whether or not he might have been better off going to Weisshaupt after all. The Inquisitor had asked him personally not to, to lend his aid to her cause. She was a striking figure but he would not have stayed just for that reason; her manner of asking stirred up old memories. The girl could hardly have been more physically different than Neria Surana had been but that request for aid was so similar.

A decade had passed since he had lost his love. This girl, The Inquisitor, had a very similar burden on her shoulders as Surana had. 

"What have you done for us lately, Alistair?" He chuckled in to his stein before draining it again. He had put off his duty to Weisshaupt to aid the Inquisition. They would probably ask for his head when he finally did report in but so what?

He did not notice that Commander Rutherford had entered the tavern or been pointed over to where he sat. The black cloud emanating from him had caused the barkeep to send for removal. 

"Hi, uh... Alistair, right?" The blond Varric had referred to as 'Curly' peered at him.

"S'me." He agreed. "Another."

"Why not come with me? I have some better stuff and you can give me your report." Curly suggested.

"Sure." Alistair did not much care where he sat as long as there was more ale. He did not notice Curly slip the barkeep a couple of gold coins and whisper an order of the good ale discreetly to his room.

Once he was unsteadily on his feet, he felt Cullen's bulk supporting him a little. He was not fully drunk but his tiredness was not helped by what he had imbibed. He went under guidance up the stairs and across the battlements to the Commander's office. Once inside, he sat heavily in an armchair sourced from Maker-knew-where and settled in. After a long moment, Curly reappeared with another stein and he took it, stopping and staring at the man.

"Wait, I know you." He realised.

"Yes. I'm Commander Cullen. We -"

"That's it. That's the name. You were at the Circle in Ferelden." Alistair's memory cleared and opened up.

"I was. I'm afraid I must not have made a good impression at the time."

"Anything but. I was trained as a Templar you know. Never took my vows though. I know why you asked us to invoke the Rite. Without Neria, I would have agreed with you." Cullen started a little at the name and Alistair set his drink aside. He suddenly did not want drunken oblivion any more.

"I thought she was a desire demon."

"Yes, I remember - you had said you ... sorry." He realised how much he was about to put his foot in the proverbial nightsoil.

"No, it is okay. I remember what I said that day to my shame."

"Why? We didn't think it was shameful. Neria even told us all in camp that night that you were a good man who had just been caught up in something awful. The only one who thought otherwise was Wynne but the old woman disapproved of a lot actually." Including his relationship with Neria. That had stung but they ignored her. Perhaps she had even been right. Perhaps she had been wrong.

“I am sorry, Cullen. I couldn’t save her.” His mind was still a little fuzzy. “No. That is a lie. I wouldn’t save her and then I failed to save her.”

“I don’t understand…” Cullen looked confused.

“The woman Morrigan that spends her time in the garden? Watch her.”

“Watch her? Was she not with Neria and yourself back then?”

“She has never forgiven me for allowing my love to die.”

“I do not understand why you refer to Neria’s sacrifice as something that could have been prevented. All Grey Wardens who defeat an Archdemon perish.”

“Morrigan offered us a way to save Neria’s life. I refused. It involved blood magic.” Alistair slurred a little and leaned back heavily in his chair. “I was to lay with her and get a child on her the night before we fought the Archdemon. The child would absorb the soul of the Old God and save Neria. I couldn’t do it. Not even to save the woman I loved.”

“Blood magic is evil,” Cullen agreed but his voice wavered as he spoke as Alistair’s had when discussing the possibility of it a decade ago.

“Watch Morrigan. She left the party in anger when I refused. I could not allow blood magic - especially since I …”

“Are the son of King Maric,” Alistair nodded. 

“I couldn’t allow Morrigan or her mother - Flemeth of the tales - to have a chance at Ferelden’s throne. Not even for Neria.” Alistair’s eyes fluttered shut as he drifted off in the armchair. “I couldn’t get to it before she did… it should've been me…”

Alistair awoke in the night, a blanket over him and a horrible taste in his mouth from the ale. Cullen was asleep in the chair beside him and Alistair smiled sadly.

“I hope your love works out for you this time… just be brave enough to tell her.” He stood and settled the blanket on the other blond man. Departing through the gates before first light, the Grey Warden turned his steps towards Weisshaupt. He still had his duty to perform; it was what Neria would have wanted.


End file.
